


Dean: Cold

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, During Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-06
Updated: 2006-11-06
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:37:44
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean's thoughts about Sam.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers/Warnings:Nope  
Disclaimer:Not mine, don't sue.  


* * *

Your heart froze when Mom burned, and it's been in deep freeze ever since. You liked the cold; it kept you sharp. Kept you hungry. Maybe even kept you sane. No matter where you hunted--Texas, Florida, California--you were never warm. Not where it counted.

Then Sam came back, and brought heat with him.

Oh, hey, that was your fault, wasn't it? You went and got Sammy, took him away from Jessica like Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, or the little boy in that fairy tale whose heart was turned to ice by the Snow Queen(wouldn't Sam be surprised that you've read those books?).

Sammy loves being warm. But you don't. It makes you vulnerable. And every time someone thanks you for saving their ass, when some girl kisses you on the cheek, when you and Sam save a family, a little bit more of the cold chips away, and you sit up nights in crappy motel rooms, watching Sam sleep.

Sam brought heat with him. Some of it's anger at Dad, and you. He's a Coleman lantern in jeans, pushing the darkness away; he hasn't forgotten a thing about hunting, and he surprises you with how fast and deadly he can be. Sam fights with passion, and you know he'd run into Hell to save you or Dad, because that's how he is. Secretly, you admire him for that.

You love him.

You don't remember when that love started to change; you were too busy staying cold. Maybe it started in North Carolina, when he stitched your shoulder after that zombie cut you open. Sam turned white as rock salt and you thought he'd puke, but he got the job done. Or when you were fighting over the remote one rainy night in Wisconsin, rolling around on your bed like kids, and you ended up on top of Sam, laughing down into his smiling face, and suddenly you realized just how buff your little brother was, and Sam's smile faded and his eyes got all smoky. Or all the bathrooms and rest stops where you jerked off, your knuckles stuffed into your mouth so Sam wouldn't hear you come.

He's melting you, bit by bit, and you can't let that happen, so you fight back. But you're losing. Beer doesn't help. Jacking doesn't help(much). And no matter how hot a girl is, you want Sam under you, on you, behind you. So you resist Sam's heat, because if you let him warm you, you'd never be cold again.


End file.
